My mom passed away after I had barely published a single poem, and before I had completed any of my novels. So it gives me great joy that some 20 years later, an old poem that she loved of mine has finally found a home in the 2022 edition of Northern Narratives. An ode to Orion:
In Seasons of Snow
I waited for you
At the edge of a lake,
A frozen space
Outside the city’s glare.
Earthbound, I scrambled down
An ice-glossed jetty—
Searched crisp-gemmed skies
That only winter keeps.
My eyes snagged
On the loop of your belt,
Three stars strong.
My mist tinged bright
By moon
As I sounded you out
Off a single breath:
Orion.
Pursuer of the Pleiades,
Scorpion’s stalker,
Giant Hunter—
I, too, have become
A huntress, and in
Seasons of snow
I ransack the stars
To flesh you out.
I would be your Artemis—
But my arrow would be no accident,
Nor tipped with killing head.
Accept my heart into your breast,
A weak ember next to your fierce
Magnitude of light, yet even so
I would add my high-shot scintilla
To the bonfire of your strength.
I'm not this girl anymore. I've aged, or rather edged, more into weariness than wonder as the years have piled on. But I hope my heart will never forget the starlit gladness thrown into the sky by nature every night. My mom had a beautiful Rabindranath Tagore quote I try to always remember: "If you cry when the sun is gone, you won't see the stars."
As this year ends, may we all find those little starry joy-gems in our life that rekindle our hearts.
